Amabelle Charlotte
by Claire Lafleur
Summary: Wizard meets muggle. Wizard falls in love with muggle. Will they live happily ever after? Or will the prejudices of the wizard world reduce their relationship to a failed fairytale? "A very dramatic story that isn't really that dramatic at all." - a professional reviewer
1. Frolicking in Town

**Obviously I don't own any part of the Harry Potter series, The Tales of Beedle the Bard, or any stories mentioned in The Tales of Beedle the Bard.**

"Charlie! Charlie! Wake up!!!"

I groaned at the voice and rolled over.

"Charlie!!!!" the voice yelled in my ear.

I sat up and looked around the room groggily. Bill was grinning at me.

"Was da matter wit you?" I mumbled, still half asleep.

"Mom says you need to get up. Dads going into town again and he wants you to come with him…. Again."

I stretched and kicked back my covers.

"What's his excuse this time?"

"Um, I think he said something about a bewitched traffic light that the ministry wanted him to fix…. But I think he just wants to get a look at that house that's being built."

"Typical dad."

I trudged tiredly down the stairs and sat down at the kitchen table, pulling a clean t-shirt over my head.

Ginny and Ron sat on the floor in front of a picture book version of The Wizard and the Hopping Pot. They watched as the tiny people on the page acted out the story. The characters walked across the page until they ran into the edge of the paper and shouted at the young readers to turn the page.

"Here you go," Mom said, placing a mountain of French toast in front of me.

"Thanks mom," I said, picking up a fork.

"Eat up Charlie. Your dad needs to leave in 15 minutes."

"Why do I have go with him? We don't even do anything except walk around!!"

"You know why Charlie!"She yelled quietly, "Your father needs someone with him to keep him from doing anything stupid!"

"Oh come on mom! You have to give him some credit!!"

"The last time I sent your father into town alone he got arrested by the muggle police!!!!"

I decided it would be safest not to push her nerves any further; after all she had my 8 year old brothers Fred and George to look after. Her temper has been extremely short ever since they tried to 'herd' the garden gnomes…

Dad walked into the kitchen and I almost choked on my pumpkin juice. He was wearing a purple button down shirt, green plaid Bermuda shorts, and an orange top hat.

"All right Charlie?" dad asked, looking highly concerned.

"Fine," I all but squeaked. What the (enter profanity here) was he wearing??

Well, this trip into town was definitely going to be interesting….

**Yes, I know, poor Charlie. But don't feel too sorry for him. His day will get better, I promise!**

**Reviews would be much appreciated. **


	2. Fortunate Fumble

**So so sorry about not updating in forever. Thank you for all of those who reviewed …. It means so much!**

Charlie Weasly reluctantly followed his purple and green clad father down the winding sidewalk. Was it not enough that Mr. Weasly exclaimed and pointed in excitement every time they saw a light bulb? Did his father also have to walk around town wearing purple trousers and a green plaid shirt?

"Hello" said an unfamiliar voice.

Charlie looked up, bewildered. A muggle girl about his age smiled up at him. He stopped walking, completely stunned. After a while he blinked and smiled back timidly.

She held out her hand "I'm Amabelle Charlotte."

He took her hand "Charlie Weasly," he mumbled. He was defiantly out of his element.

"Nice to meet you," she beamed.

Suddenly, Charlie realized his dad had stopped walking and was eyeing Amabelle with great interest.

"It's okay Charlie, I've got to go anyway," Amabelle smiled at him again before turning around and walking down the side walk in the opposite direction.

"_That was odd,"_ Charlie thought to himself as he and Mr. Weasley watched the girl until she turned a corner.

Mr. Weasley started walking again but stopped abruptly when he realized his son was still standing in a daze, staring in the direction the muggle girl went.

"Charlie?" Mr. Weasley asked concernedly.

"Hmm?"

"Are you all right son?"

"Yea, yeah I'm fine."

* * *

Charlie sat on the steps of a closed shop, no longer trying to blend in. His mind was far too busy thinking about the strange muggle girl to worry about anything as pointless as being normal.

His father was standing half a block away, but was close enough that Charlie could still see him gazing in awe at the construction workers. Charlie chuckled to himself remembering the weak explanation his dad gave him when they arrived at a perfectly normal looking traffic light.

Still chuckling Charlie stood up and walked over to his dad.

"Oh, Charlie. Um, I'm almost ready to go, just give me a few seconds."

"It's alright dad, I was actually wondering if I could go down to that muggle park and you can meet me there when you're really ready to go."

Mr. Weasley looked uncomfortable as he mulled this over. If Charlie went to the park then he would have more time at this amazing construction site. Author Weasley glanced back up at workers as he said "Okay. Just make sure you wait for me to join you before you go back to the house." He was not sure if Molly would approve of this separation, but he was only watching muggles build a house… nothing bad could come of that…..

**Right now I have 8 story alerts for this story and only three reviews. If you like this enough to alert, all I ask is that you tell me why! **

**the muggle character is just a girl I made up. Yes, I know her name is really strange, but I like weird names. **


	3. Fortune Fumbles Again

Amabelle Charlotte sat against a tree in the park. She was attempting to write poetry in her, for lack of a better word, journal. There was just one problem. She kind of sucked at writing poetry, or rather, she sucked at writing meaningful poetry.

Yes, she could spin beautiful images of flower gardens bursting with peonies as huge as mixing bowls and heavy with dew drops, or warm sandy beaches colliding frigid sea-foamy waves, but she could never put any depth into her writing.

Nothing more than beauty came out of her pen, and she knew that she shouldn't complain. After all, beauty is something everybody seems to crave, but she didn't crave it, because she had it and didn't want it.

Amabelle Charlotte craved something much better than beauty.

She craved the joy she saw emanating from someone's kitten as it chased a butterfly just a few yards to her left. She craved the fear of the young boy standing at the top of the blue tube slide, across the park. She craved the love that her parents shared. She craved the embarrassment that boy Charlie had on the street only one hour ago.

She craved so many things, that sometimes it hurt to think about it.

Amabelle threw down her chewed up pen and journal in frustration and turned to the only thing that could help her now, her camera. It was the one thing in the world in which she could capture those things she craved like love and fear, and keep them as her very own.

She twisted off the lens cap, flipped the on switch, and changed the setting to dusk (since it was), searched for a subject, and settled on the kitten.

The tiny fuzz ball would leap into the air, looking perfectly poised to make the kill, and then trip over its too-big paws, landing sprawled on the grass. Amabelle snuck up as it lay on its stomach, legs sprawled about, as if trying to remember what exactly it had been doing two seconds ago that had landed it in this dizzy condition.

She raised and focused her camera, and the butterfly fluttered down, landing right on the kitten's nose, creating the perfect shot. Amabelle clicked the button to capture the moment; but as the shutter opened, the fuzz ball leapt up and became, once again, just a blur of gray and white.

Amabelle clicked off the camera, now in a real heat of frustration, and went to go pack up her things. As she stuffed her camera and pen into her bag, she was startled by a yowl of pain, and, in her haste to find the source of the agony; she toppled over her feet and hit the ground with a hard _thud._

The cries of pain filled her ears as she struggled to get up. The fall had knocked all the air out of her, so she lay on her stomach, struggling to breathe as she watched two twelve year old thugs guffaw as they took turns yanking the small kitten's tail, who was now wide-eyed with terror, and scrambling helplessly, trying to get away. But it couldn't. Both the kitten, with its too large paws, and Amabelle, with her airless chest cavity, were stuck.

The kitten's yowls were becoming unbearable, and tears of helplessness and anger began to blur Amabelle's vision, when all of a sudden the park became silent, except for the heavy, retreating footsteps of the twelve year old tortures.

The first horrid thought that came to Amabelle's mind was that they'd killed the kitten, and were run, afraid of getting caught with the dead body. But then, something wet touched her nose and she was surrounded by a deep rumbling purr.

Amabelle's eyes snapped open, saw the kitten looking down at her (a bit ruffled but otherwise unharmed) and a combination of oxygen and relief flooded her system. She sat up and the kitten took the opportunity to rub up against her back.

"Look like her leg is broken," an angry male voice spoke from behind her, causing her to jump nearly a foot in the air.

The boy from the street, Charlie, was kneeling on the ground behind her, scratching the kitten behind the ears while gazing at its leg which, Amabelle now realized, was bent a strange angle.

After several minutes of Charlie scowling at the damage done to the tiny creature while continuing to scratch it behind the ears, he looked up at Amabelle.

"You okay?" he asked.

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	4. Finally

"Crap, Look at her," Charlie exclaimed, though Amabelle was looking. She couldn't take her eyes off. The mangled leg was disturbing, and the sight of it contrasted weirdly with the cuteness of the Kitten itself.

"Those bastards, what did they think would happen if the yanked a 3 week old kitten's leg. Especially the hind leg! I mean who does that?" This time he made eye contact with Amabelle as if actually asking her.

Amabelle, still in a fetal position, pushed up- off of the ground.

"I don't know," she huffed, not without grace or kindness, once she'd reached a sitting position.

Charlie was looking at her, as if just now noticing the girl who'd detracted him earlier.

"Hey, your-" he struggled to get out, but failed, to distracted.

"oh hey, whats up buttercup?," She replied nonchalantly tucking a piece of orange hair behind her ear. It was as if she'd 'been expecting him.' Weird.

"So," she said, looking down at the poor angel in his arms, "what're you gonna do about her?"

"Probably take her home and get mom to magi-" he faltered, just slipped up on the m word "mend it. She's good with healing spell- I mean healing swells and broken bones... also colds." he threw the last bit in for believability sake.

Her light orange hair had fallen into Amabelle's eyes again, she smiled at his awkwardness and the orange contrasted perfectly with the deep blue. Charlie was entranced until she tucked the hair behind her ear again.

"Can I come?"

"What?"

"With you to get Daisy's leg healed. Do you think your mum will mind if I tag along?"

"Oh no, of course not," he said dumbly, not thinking about the OBVIOUS issue.

The Weasley house was one of the most obviously magical houses there was in wizarding England. But that didn't seem to bother Charlie at the moment.

"She'd love it if you came."

"Great!" Amabelle jumped up, grabbed her bag- camera, journal, and all- and joined Charlie on the road to home. Any and all thoughts of muggle obsessed fathers (still standing at 'traffic lights' ) or menacing magical brothers were absent from his mind... At the moment.

Charlie glanced at Amabelle as they took off down the side walk and noticed that the piece of light orange hair was in her face yet agian.

The rest of her hair was plaited down her back, so long it almost reached her bum. Charlie was sure that it hit the ground when she was sitting, Charlie thought to himself that the kitten would love that, if it's leg hand't been mangled. Charlie loved it, though not because it served as a good potential chew toy. It just looked so _soft. _Everything about her was soft. Very different from Charlie's stone, cold eyes, callused hands, muscly arms, bristled hair, and scratchy stubble. Amabelle was cuddly looking, like the kitten. She had a soft blue dress, soft orange hair, deep blue eyes, soft pink lips, and soft milky skin.

She must have felt his gaze, or heard the cat (she seemed to have named her Daisy) meow in discomfort, because she turned to return Charlie's gaze.

She tucked the hair behind her ear again. He smiled at the already familiar gesture


	5. Freckling

As they got closer to the house, the gears in Charlie's head cracked through the layer of orange rust that Amabelle's presence had allowed to form and slowly started to turn again. They were just a hill away from the Weasley's burrow- it would be visible within a few seconds and the m word would become real for Amabelle. Technically, it wouldn't be that bad if she found out. His father had connections, after all and it would be painfully easy to modify her memory and quietly return her to muggle society. The ease and simplicity of that idea sent a pang through Charlie. His throughout constricted and his head began to hurt. _NO, _ he thought, _that would not- could not- be his plan. _

That being said, he could not show her magic, which meant he could not bring her any closer to the Weasley house. He glanced at her. She was looking at the kitten. The kitten was looking back at her, timidly, but it still looked. Charlie could tell that both Amabelle and Daisy would want to stick together through the healing process. So he would have to bring his mom to them.

With that decided, Charlie looked around to see where they had gotten to and he released that they were about to make the last turn before the borrow was visible.

"STOP," he shouted and flung an arm in attempt to stop Amabelle in her foot steps. Due to their height difference, he actually just hit the air right above her head, but she got the idea.

She peered up at him, smiling that half smile. It was the only expression he'd seen her pull, expect of for the almost feline snarl she'd worn in the park when the boys had been torturing the kitten.

He stepped in front of her, just to make sure she didn't continue along the path.

"Heres the thing," he started lamely, making eye contact with her forehead, " we can't actually go into my house."

She kept the half smile and raised a quizzic eyebrow, a talent that Charlie had always admired but had never seemed to master.

"Okay," she responded.

"Okay?" Charlie questioned, lifting both eyebrows, tragically unable to do just the one.

"Okay," she reassured.

Amabelle understood family secrets and respected the desire to hide them. her family had their fair share of skeletal closets.

"Great."

He gently maneuvered the kitten into Amabelles arms, not wanting to further risk the feline's safety in his increasingly explosive house. Fred and George were getting more and more dangerous as they approached double digits. His arm brushed Amabelle's as he made the exchange and his freckle color seemed to spread, until it looked like his face was one, big, blushy freckle.

"There," they both said at the same time.

"Well," the freckle color creeped down his neck and was now tinging his biceps, "Well, I'll be back in a flash."

Charlie turned and sprinted around the corner, before the freckling got worse.

When he was out of her site and in site of the borrow, he took moment to shake out the effervescance that had pervaded his system.

Charlie Weasley was starting to understand why his father got so excited about muggles.


End file.
